Pip’s War

Mother. A bit disillusioned with her marriage, with her life, she nevertheless manages to hold the family together. Normally disagrees with anything Arnold says, simply out of spite.

Brad

Son. About to turn 18. Not terribly bright, but he knows it. Sullen, insecure.

Marie

Daughter. Early to mid teens. Smart.

Pip

Daughter. The oldest sibling, but with the mind of a small child. A mentally-retarded invalid, she never speaks or moves — only screams now and again. Not a cry, but a scream, at the top of her lungs, for no apparent reason. There is nothing anyone can do about this — no way to comfort her — you must simply wait for the fit to subside.

Scene

Family home.

Time

Now.

ACT I

Scene 1

(Darkness. Low spot light comes up on a man in a chair: ARNOLD, as a young man [30’s]. He sits, vacant but intense, icy stare — a mixture of confusion and anger. Motionless. Very long silence. Then a BOY’S VOICE is heard — it’s BRAD’S VOICE, as a young boy.)

BOY’S VOICE

Dad?

(pause)

Dad!

ARNOLD

(looks off to one side slightly, toward the voice)

What?

BOY’S VOICE

What should I do?

ARNOLD

About what?

BOY’S VOICE

I mean what should I be, dad?

ARNOLD

(he stares front again, as before)

I don’t care.

BOY’S VOICE

But what do you think I should do?

ARNOLD

I said I don’t care, Brad. Do whatever the hell you want.

(pause)

BOY’S VOICE

Dad?

ARNOLD

(a touch of anger)

What?

BOY’S VOICE

What’d you usedta wanna be?

ARNOLD

(pause)

I can’t remember.

BOY’S VOICE

Really?

ARNOLD (soft)

Leave me alone.

(long silence. Light fades to black.)

ACT I – Scene 2

(Same. Light up on same chair, ARNOLD, a few years later, much as before — but slightly more aware, slightly less distant. We hear BRAD’s voice, a few years older.)

BRAD’S VOICE

I think I might do it. You think I should?

ARNOLD

What.

BRAD’S VOICE

Go out for football. Weren’t you listening to me?

ARNOLD

Oh, yeah.

BRAD’S VOICE

Well whatta ya think.

ARNOLD

Uh, what for?

BRAD’S VOICE

I dunno. Why not, right?

ARNOLD

Sure, I guess. If you want to. I really don’t care.

BRAD’S VOICE

But you played football, right?

ARNOLD

Yup.

BRAD’S VOICE

So, like, it’s pretty cool, right?

ARNOLD

I dunno. It’s pretty fuckin pointless, I guess.

BRAD’S VOICE

Oh. Yeah, I s’pose. But you get lotsa chicks, too, right?

ARNOLD

What difference does it make. You end up stuck with your mother in the end anyway.

BRAD’S VOICE

Well, but, like, who knows, ya know? I could get a scholarship or somethin, go ta college and everything, ya know?

Small sparse working-class American home. The present. A door SL leads to the kitchen; one SR to the garage and outside; on UR leading to the bedrooms.

AT RISE:

Pip sits in her chair (a tall, adult-sized high-chair of sorts), as usual, upstage side of the table, staring vacantly. ALICE is giving her a haircut, humming a melody. MARIE and BRAD at the table playing Scrabble. He is tall and well-built, average-looking, always with a kind of sadness in his eyes. MARIE is self-assured, sharp, aware; kind of a “tom boy,” but with pig tails in her hair.)

MARIE

Brad, come on.

BRAD

I’m thinkin.

(MARIE lets out an exasperated sigh.)

MARIE

If you don’t have a word, just pass.

BRAD

I think I almost got one.

(long pause)

MARIE (bored)

Mom, you wanna play?

ALICE

Maybe in a minute.

BRAD

Ha ha!

(he plays some tiles, triumphantly.)

Add em up.

(he picks new tiles from the box. MARIE stares at his word, unimpressed.)

MARIE

Is that supposed to say “torpedo”?

BRAD

It does say “torpedo.”

MARIE

Um, you’ve got too many “e’s.”

BRAD

What?

MARIE

“Torpedo” only has one “e” in it.

BRAD

Fine, I’ll take one off.

(he removes one of the “e” tiles from the board)

MARIE

But it doesn’t fit, then.

BRAD

Sure it does. . . . Oh yeah, I guess not. Screw it, I pass.

(he folds his arms, mopes)

MARIE

So take your tiles off.

(he does.)

And put your other ones back.

(he puts the new tiles back in the box, counts to make sure he has the right number on his tray)

That only took half an hour.

BRAD

Like five minutes.

MARIE

Whatever.

(she is already putting down a word)

There. “Zygote.” That’s a double-word score . . .

(she adds up the tiles)

BRAD

“Zygote”? That ain’t no word.

MARIE

Um, yeah.

BRAD (to ALICE)

She’s makin crap up again.

MARIE

You wanna challenge?

BRAD

Yeah. I do.

MARIE

I don’t think you wanna challenge that, Brad.

BRAD

(he looks to ALICE for guidance. ALICE shakes her head)

All right, fine. I’ll let it go.

MARIE

Of course you’ll “let it go.” It’s a well-known word, dummy.

BRAD

Fine, if you’re so smart then what’s it mean? Huh?

MARIE

It’s like a fetus. You’ve really never heard of that?

BRAD

It’s “like” a fetus? So why not just call it a fetus, then?

MARIE

It’s like a fetus before it becomes a fetus.

BRAD

Yeah but, like, . . .

MARIE (impatient)

It’s your turn.

BRAD

Fine.

(he lays down some tiles right away this time)

MARIE

Nice.

BRAD

What? It’s a word, isn’t it?

MARIE

Probly.

BRAD

What, you never heard of a “zit” before?

MARIE

I’ve heard of it.

BRAD

Then it’s a word. How many points did I get?

MARIE

Can’t you add it up yourself for once? I mean, jeez, it’s only three letters.

BRAD

Just add the score, brainiac.

MARIE

Eighteen.

BRAD

That’s it?

MARIE

My turn.

(she plays tiles right away again. Adds her score.)

BRAD

“Query”?

(he looks at ALICE again. ALICE nods. He sighs in frustration.)

MARIE

Your turn.

BRAD

I’ll pass.

(MARIE puts down another word, adds the score)

MARIE

Your turn.

BRAD

Pass.

(PIP suddenly screams, at the top of her lungs — one of her fits. ALICE stops cutting her hair, MARIE and BRAD just keep playing, practically as though nothing happened, as though they don’t even hear her — this is simply commonplace. Eventually the screaming stops. MARIE puts down another word, adds her score)

Um, I think you spelled that wrong.

MARIE

Challenge?

BRAD

I don’t wanna challenge, I’m just helping you.

MARIE

Well it’s the right spelling.

BRAD

No, look at it: “V-A-C-U-U-M”? Are you tryin ta spell “vacuum”?

MARIE

I did spell “vacuum.”

(BRAD looks to ALICE to help him out)

ALICE

I think she’s right, Bradley.

BRAD

Whatever. What’s the score, anyway.

MARIE

You really wanna know?

BRAD

Yes, I “really” wanna know.

MARIE

Two hundred seventy to sixty three.

BRAD

Christ!

ALICE

Bradley, that’s enough.

BRAD

Let’s just quit.

MARIE

You forfeit?

BRAD

Yes, I give up, I’m stupid, O.K.?

ALICE

You’re not stupid, Brad. Don’t say things like that.

BRAD

Knock it off. I’m stupid and always will be and everyone knows it, so just give it a rest.

MARIE

Maybe you should read books?

BRAD

Yeah, like that’ll help.

ALICE

He’s doin O.K. You’re gonna graduate, aren’t you, Brad.

BRAD

What’s the difference?

MARIE

Don’t you wanna go ta college?

BRAD

Yeah, right.

ALICE

Not everyone has to go to college, Marie.

MARIE

But, like, what do you wanna do?

BRAD

I dunno, I can’t do anything. I’m not smart and I’m not good at anything. It doesn’t really matter what I “wanna” do, it’s not really up to me.

MARIE

So who’s it up to, then?

BRAD

Probly just . . . work with dad or somethin, I guess.

MARIE

Fixin cars? You don’t know how to fix cars.

BRAD

Well maybe he’ll teach me, you ever thinka that?

(MARIE shrugs)

MARIE

Maybe if you’d try.

BRAD

What’s the point, I never do anything right.

ALICE

Marie, leave your brother alone.

MARIE

Mom, you wanna play Scrabble with me?

ALICE

No, I’m gonna start supper pretty quick here.

MARIE

Ah, jeez.

ALICE

Why don’t you guys get outta the house, go play outside for a while.

BRAD

Hey, yeah, I know one game I can whoop your butt in.

MARIE

(she knows what game he’s talking about already, she smiles excitedly)

Oh yeah? I bet you can’t. I figured out a new strategy.

BRAD

Oh really.

MARIE

Yup. You’re goin down, mister.

BRAD

All right, we’ll see about that.

ALICE

Change your clothes first. And be back inside in an hour.

(BRAD goes off SR, comes back with two paint guns and boxes of paint balls and cartridges.)

BRAD

Choose your weapon.

(MARIE takes a gun and a box of “ammo.”)

ALICE

Just change your clothes, O.K.?

(she exits to kitchen. MARIE and BRAD look at each other for a moment.)

MARIE

I don’t like these clothes anyway.

BRAD

Screw it. Let’s go. I’ll give you a head start. Go!

MARIE

O.K., good luck finding me.

(MARIE giggles, runs out.)

BRAD

You better run.

(he loads the paint gun. Holds it up and aims it, focusing through the site. He pans the gun, aiming it at the audience, then at SL. ALICE suddenly comes back from the kitchen, carrying a broom to sweep up PIP’s hair — the gun pointing right at her. She jumps, drops the broom and dust pan.)

ALICE

Jesus Christ, Bradley. You almost gave me a heart attack. Take that thing outside.

BRAD

Sorry, mom.

(he quickly exits SR. She picks up the broom, sweeps up the hair.)

FADE

ACT I – Scene
4

(The room is empty but for PIP, who sits in her usual chair, her usual spot. Sound of a motorcyle pulling up, shutting off. ARNOLD enters, SR. He is tall, late middle-age, but not as old as he looks. He’s tired, covered in grease. He sits down at his usual spot at the table, SL. Lights up a cigarette. Suddenly, PIP screams. He jumps at first, then just calmly ignores her, waits for it to stop. He takes out his knife, wipes it with a rag, polishes it. BRAD comes in, carrying his paint gun. He has a baseball cap on; a dab or two of brightly-colored paint here and there on his shirt. ARNOLD puts his knife away.)

BRAD

Hey, dad.

ARNOLD

How’s it goin. Looks like ya got hit.

BRAD

Ah, just a scratch or two. But wait’ll you see Marie.

ARNOLD

Ah, jesus, Brad, she’s too little for that shit. You’re gonna hurt her one of these times.

BRAD

Ah, she’s fine.

(MARIE walks in, dejected, and covered pretty much from head to toe with various colors of splattered paint. ARNOLD is laughing, but trying not to let her see.)

(the phone rings. Neither of them move to pick it up. It rings again.)

ALICE

(yelling, from off)

Somebody gonna get that?

ARNOLD

They can leave a message.

BRAD

You wanna play some darts?

ARNOLD

All right.

(phone keeps ringing. BRAD gets the darts, hands half of them to ARNOLD, gestures for his dad to go first; ARNOLD throws the darts, but his hand shakes, and he can barely hit the target. ALICE comes in quickly, picks up the phone.)

This isn’t like some — like I just all of a sudden decided, “Hey, I’m bored, I think I’ll join the army today.” Believe it or not, I’ve actually, like, thought about this. I been thinkin about it for a while.

ALICE

When?

BRAD

For a long time. I mean, somebody’s gotta do it. Why not me, right? What’s the big deal? I mean, Dad joined up.

(ARNOLD suddenly storms out the door, SR.)

What’s with him?

(sound of a motorcycle starting up, speeding off.)

It’s time that I did something with my life, ya know? What’s wrong with that?

ALICE

You didn’t think to maybe ask us? Maybe at least discuss it with us first?

BRAD

I’m not a child anymore, mom. I know what I wanna do.

(pause. PIP suddenly screams. ALICE holds her hand, waits for the fit to stop. She gets up, starts for the kitchen)

ALICE

Go tell your sister supper’s ready.

BRAD (yelling)

Marie! Supper!

(he goes back to throwing darts. ALICE watches him for a moment.)

ALICE

I’m sorry.

BRAD

For what?

ALICE

Just . . . You’re doin the right thing.

BRAD

Thanks.

ALICE

I just wish you would have told us. That’s all.

BRAD

I just told you.

ALICE

O.K.

(she goes. BRAD throws darts. Suddenly he has a fit of rage, and throws all the remaining darts in his hand at once, extremely hard, at the board. Yelling, as he goes off to find MARIE)

BRAD

Marie! Supper!

FADE

ACT I – Scene
5

AT RISE:

Arnold sits at the dining room table, stabbing a large knife into the wood, pulling it out, and stabbing it in again — intensely, focused only on the knife, but almost calmly. Pip sits in her chair, as always, off to one side, staring vacantly. Alice comes in from kitchen (off), carrying a pot of food, which she sets on the table. Arnold does not look up; continues stabbing the table.

ALICE
(yelling)

Marie!

MARIE (yelling from off)

What?!

ALICE (yelling)

Supper!

(ALICE sets the food on the table and goes back into the kitchen. MARIE enters from her room, UR, sits at the table, watches her dad, says nothing. She gets up, turn on the radio. ALICE returns, with more food.)

ALICE (to MARIE)

Set the table, will ya?

(MARIE gets up to go. Stops and stares at her dad for a moment, exits to kitchen. ALICE goes to PIP’s chair, slides her over to the table. MARIE returns with plates and silverware, starts setting the table.)

MARIE

Where’s Brad?

ALICE

Hell if I know.

(yelling)

Brad! Supper!

(to ARNOLD)

We’re eatin now, put that goddam thing away.

(ARNOLD keeps stabbing, doesn’t even acknowledge her. MARIE has set all the places except his, stands nervously by his side, unsure what to do. Finally he looks up at her, looks down, puts the knife away. MARIE sets his plate and silverware in front of him)

ARNOLD

Thanks.

(he stares at his plate)

ALICE (yelling)

Brad!

MARIE

Should I go find him?

ALICE

Go see what he’s doin.

(ALICE sits. Silence but for the radio. ARNOLD opens and closes his fist. He gets up, shuts the radio off, sits back down. Opens and closes his fist. MARIE comes back in)

MARIE

I can’t find him.

ALICE

See if he’s out in back.

(MARIE goes. Silence. All of a sudden ARNOLD smashes his plate with his fist. PIP screams.)

Nice. Jesus Christ.

(she holds PIP by the hand, waits for the screaming to stop. To ARNOLD)

Clean that up.

(ARNOLD gets up, paces, turns the radio back on. Sits back down. ALICE gets a bib, puts it on PIP. MARIE returns.)

MARIE

He’s comin.

ALICE

The hell was he doin?

MARIE

Just choppin logs.

ALICE

What an idiot.

MARIE

He said he’ll be in in a sec.

(ALICE feeds PIP, like a baby. She continues doing this throughout most of the meal.)

ALICE

There ya go. Swallow it down, now.

(ARNOLD picks up the broken plate, takes it to the kitchen. BRAD enters — sweating and out of breath. He is about to sit down.)

Wash your hands.

BRAD

(about to exit to kitchen)

Where’s dad?

ALICE

Kitchen, I think.

BRAD

Oh, O.K. I’ll just wait.

MARIE

What’re you choppin all them logs for?

BRAD

I dunno. Firewood.

MARIE

It’s not even winter, dummy.

BRAD

Well, it will be some time, won’t it?

ALICE

Go ahead and start. No sense in waitin for him.

MARIE

Good, I’m starved.

(she dishes herself up a plate of food)

BRAD

That’s O.K., I’ll wait.

ALICE (yelling)

Arnold! It’s getting cold!

(pause. ARNOLD comes back in, sits)

ARNOLD

Sorry. I forgot.

ALICE (to BRAD)

Hands, Bradley.

(BRAD exits to kitchen. He glances at his father, who does not make eye contact)

MARIE

Should we do the “Grace” thing or something?

ALICE

The “Grace thing,” is that what you call it?

MARIE

Whatever. Say “Grace” or whatever?

ALICE

You can if you want. I guess I don’t really . . . [see the point]

MARIE

I just mean, cause, like, for today, just with Brad leavin and everything.

ARNOLD

Sure, let’s say a fuckin prayer.

ALICE

Arny.

ARNOLD

Soon as the hero gets back in here. We gotta wait for the hero.

(pause. MARIE stares down at the table, sort of ashamed but not sure why. BRAD comes back from the kitchen, sits.)

BRAD

What, nobody’s hungry?

(he picks up the big pot)

Dad? You want some ribs?

ARNOLD

Sure.

(BRAD dishes food up for his father, then for himself.)

BRAD

Corn?

ARNOLD

All right.

(BRAD dishes corn)

ALICE

He’s a grown man, he can feed himself.

BRAD

I know that.

ALICE

Well don’t wait on him then.

(ARNOLD goes to the kitchen, comes back with two beers. He cracks one open and hands it to BRAD, who hesitates for a second, then takes it)

BRAD

That’s what I’m talkin about.

ALICE

(to ARNOLD — gently scolding)

What are you doin?

ARNOLD

He’s old enough, ain’t he?

ALICE (stating the obvious)

No.

ARNOLD

He’s old enough to fight in a fuckin war he’s old enough to drink a fuckin beer, ain’t he?

ALICE

All right, take it easy.

(silence. ARNOLD cracks the other beer and take a huge swig. He goes over to the radio and stands looking at it; lights a cigarette.)

BRAD

So this is sorta like a last supper, huh. We should have wine, instead.

ARNOLD

What, you think you’re Jesus or somethin now?

BRAD

No, I just meant —

ARNOLD

Just drink your fuckin beer.

(silence)

ALICE

How’re the ribs?

BRAD

Fuckin good. Really good.

ALICE

Don’t swear like that, you tryin to imitate your father?

ARNOLD

Leave him alone.

BRAD

Anyway it’s good. Thanks, mom.

ALICE

Well, I know it’s your favorite.

BRAD

Aren’t you hungry, dad?

ARNOLD

Nah, you can have mine.

(pause)

ALICE (to PIP)

Come on, sweety. Swallow it, now. Swallow it down. . . .

(pause)

MARIE (to BRAD)

So, like, are you scared?

ALICE

Marie, that’s not — [polite]

BRAD (laughs)

Nah.

MARIE

Really?

BRAD

Well sure, a little bit. But I’ll be fine, nothin’s gonna happen. Hell, I might not even get deployed.

(ARNOLD sighs heavily, shakes his head)

ALICE

Arny, turn on the news.

ARNOLD

What the hell for?

ALICE

Just turn that off and turn on the news.

ARNOLD

It’s all a buncha bullshit.

MARIE

I’ll do it.

(she turns the radio off, walkls over to the TV and turns it on; flips through the channels until she finds the news — it’s a news report about Iraq, WMDs, links to Al Qaeda, etc. etc. She sits back down at the table. Long silence — only the sound of the news.)

Yeah, I know, that’s fine. Just . . . thought maybe you’d wanna wait, until . . . I mean, I’m sure he’ll be back pretty soon, he just has to do this sometimes.

BRAD

Yeah, well, I don’t know what else there is to say, anyway.

ALICE

All right then.

(pause)

Well say goodbye to your sister before you go.

BRAD

I will.

ALICE (yelling)

Marie!

BRAD

Jesus, mom.

ALICE

What?

BRAD

Why’s everybody gotta shout all the time around here?

ALICE

I don’t know.

(she smiles, he smiles back. She puts her hand on top of his.)

Just come back safe, all right?

BRAD

Don’t worry about it.

(MARIE comes in)

MARIE

What’s goin on? You leavin?

BRAD

Yup. Gotta get goin.

MARIE

O.K. So when you comin back?

BRAD

Not too long.

MARIE

O.K.

(pause)

Well, bye.

BRAD

Bye.

(MARIE goes back into her room)

Well, that was easy.

(pause. He starts to leave.)

Well, I’m gonna go.

ALICE

You sure you don’t wanna wait?

BRAD

No, that’s O.K. Tell him bye for me.

ALICE

O.K.

BRAD

I’ll see ya.

ALICE

See ya, Brad.

(he starts to go)

Brad?

BRAD

Yeah?

ALICE

We’re proud ‘a ya.

BRAD

Thanks, mom.

(he goes. She sits down and goes back to eating her pie, and feeding some to PIP. Sound of a motorcyle pulling up. PIP suddenly screams. ALICE breaks down sobbing.)

FADE

END OF ACT 1

ACT II

(SLIDESHOW: images from the Vietnam War . . . blends to images from the Iraq War. Song: “Masters Of War” by Bob Dylan.)

END ACT II

ACT III

Scene 1

(Over two years later. Winter. MARIE at the table, PIP in her usual chair, her usual spot. There’s a large banner hung on the wall reading “WELCOME HOME BRAD.” Everyone’s mood is very morose, but they’re trying not to show it. ALICE enters with a big cake, almost drops it.)

MARIE

Mom, be careful.

ALICE

I got it. Marie, you wanna set the table, please?

MARIE

Sure.

(MARIE exits to kitchen. ALICE takes out a bottle of gin — either from her apron, or from some hiding spot in the room — and takes a big drink — it is not the first of the evening.)

ALICE (yelling)

Marie?! Bring the hats and stuff.

MARIE (yelling, off)

O.K.

(ALICE checks her watch, looks around the room, tidies up, makes sure everything looks just right for BRAD’s return. MARIE comes back, carrying a stack of plates with silverware on top, plus a bunch of party hats, noise makers, etc.)

MARIE

I’m not sure about the hats, mom . . .

ALICE

Oh, it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun. You got the confetti?

MARIE

Yeah, it’s right there, but . . .

ALICE

And the silly string?

MARIE

Mom . . . It’s not a birthday party. Jeez.

ALICE

Come on, Marie, it’ll be fun. We have to make it fun. This has to be a happy day. This is a happy day.

MARIE

Whatever.

(she goes. ALICE drinks some more gin. Turns on the radio, finds a station she likes — some jazz, maybe. She dances with PIP — PIP still in her chair, just twirling around. She lights a cigarette, while trying to continue dancing; nearly lights PIP’s hair on fire.)

ALICE

Jesus, I’m sorry, Pip. I almost lit you up like a candle.

(she tries to laugh, but starts crying instead. She shakes it off, wipes her face, refuses to cry. Drinks some more gin. MARIE comes back, with a few cans of “silly string.”)

There we go, that’s the stuff!

(she take a can from MARIE, shakes it up and immediately sprays MARIE with it, chasing her around the room.)

MARIE

Mom! Don’t! You’re getting it all in my hair. Save it for when Brad comes, at least, you’re wasting it.

ALICE

All right. Should we spray him with it as soon as he walks in?

MARIE

Umm . . . I don’t think he’d like that.

ALICE

Sure he will. He’ll laugh.

MARIE

O.K., whatever. I’m not doin it.

ALICE

Come on, let’s dance.

MARIE

Mom, stop.

ALICE

Dance, girlie!

(ALICE grabs MARIE and forces her to dance. The go around the table a couple times, then almost knock PIP over out of her chair; ALICE catches her, sets her upright.)

(BRAD suddenly walks in. He’s in full military uniform, with a heavy army trenchcoat over the top. His disposition is noticeably altered — he’s more sullen, stiff, on edge, his eyes intense. No one notices him at first.)

(she hugs him too; he half-heartedly hugs them back, but seems uncomfortable, like he just wishes they’d get away from him.)

We’re so proud of you! Let me take your coat.

MARIE

We were gonna ambush you, you ruined it.

BRAD

What?

MARIE

Yeah, with this —

(she goes to the table for the silly string, puts on a party hat, hides the can of silly string in her pocket or behind her back. ALICE, too, puts on a party hat, puts a hat on PIP, and grabs a noise maker.)

ALICE

Oh god, we’re not ready.

MARIE

— hold on, go out and come back in again.

BRAD

Right.

MARIE

No, do it.

BRAD

You’re actually asking me to leave and come back in?

MARIE

Just do it, Brad.

BRAD

No, I don’t think I will.

MARIE

(sort of sad, disappointed)

Oh. O.K. then.

(ALICE has been sort of quietly sneaking up on BRAD, suddenly starts shooting him with silly string, blowing on a noise maker and laughing like crazy. MARIE joins in, squirting the silly string and making as much noise as possible. ALICE gets carried away, squirting the string right in his face, at close range.)

BRAD

Jesus Christ, get the fuck away from me with that shit!

(he knocks the can out of her hand; it flies across the room. A tense silence.)

ALICE

Sorry, we . . . We thought it would be . . . I don’t really know how to do this . . .

(she fights off tears)

BRAD

That’s all right.

MARIE

You want some cake?

BRAD

Cake? What is this, a fuckin birthday party?

MARIE

It’s just a cake.

ALICE

It’s a “welcome home” party.

BRAD

Yeah.

ALICE

Are you hungry? I bet you haven’t had cake in a while.

BRAD

No, I guess not.

ALICE

Sit down. Marie, go get the whachamacallit. To cut the cake up.

(MARIE exits to kitchen. To BRAD)

You want some gin?

BRAD

Gin, huh?

ALICE

(takes her bottle out and slips it to him)

Here.

BRAD

Not much left.

ALICE

Oh, stop.

(slaps him playfully, but too hard, on the shoulder. He does not like this at all, looks for a second like he is about to hit her. A pause, as he stares at her as though he’d like to kill her. She steps back.)

Well you want it or not.

BRAD

No.

ALICE

(takes her bottle back)

Fine. Fuck you.

(she drinks.)

BRAD

Fuck me.

(silence)

ALICE (rather drunk)

So. Tell us all about it.

BRAD

What?

ALICE

About the, you know. The, fuckin, “war” and everything. Tell us about it.

BRAD

What the hell happened to you?

ALICE

Pardon?

BRAD

Let’s just have some fuckin cake. No talking now. How bout that.

(ALICE blows a noise maker — close to BRAD’s face)

ALICE

Cake time!

(yelling)

Marie! Bring the thing!

(can’t think of the word)

I’m so glad to see you home, and all in one piece.

(she hugs him)

BRAD

Get away from me.

ALICE

Well, that’s one way to talk to your mother.

BRAD

Just, don’t suffocate me like that. O.K.?

ALICE

(probably meant sincerely, but comes out sarcastic)

Sorry.

BRAD

What’s goin on here, anyway?

(MARIE returns, stops in the doorway)

Are you doin this cause you don’t wanna talk about dad? Cause I’d kinda like to know what the deal is there, you mind?

ALICE

Well, I thought we’d . . . Talk about that later.

BRAD

What’s wrong with now?

(MARIE runs off toward her room)

ALICE

Where’re you goin?

MARIE (angry)

I’m going to my room!

(she slams the door)

BRAD

So?

ALICE

Fine. Let’s talk about it.

(she takes a big drink of gin. Offers the bottle to BRAD, now he takes it, drinks, hands it back to her)

I already wrote you about it.

BRAD

Yeah. “Dad lit himself on fire.” What in the motherfucking hell is that supposed to mean, mom? Huh? Tell me. What does that mean?

ALICE

Just what I said. I didn’t — I didn’t want to . . trouble you.

BRAD

Trouble me?

ALICE

I didn’t want to make you worry. I didn’t want you to worry, you’ve got enough on your mind.

BRAD

Yeah, well you failed. Now what the hell happened?

ALICE

He just, well, he . . . snapped, ya know?

BRAD

No. I don’t know. Explain it to me.

ALICE

Just — you know, snapped.

BRAD

Snapped and somehow lit himself on fire.

ALICE

There’s no “somehow,” I mean he just did it. He made up his mind to do it and he went and did it, what don’t you understand, Bradley?

BRAD

Uhh, the part about setting himself on fire. That part.

ALICE

Like the Buddhists. Just like — like in Vietnam, the protestors, he —

BRAD

He did it on purpose.

ALICE

Yes.

BRAD

Where.

ALICE

On the lawn. On the White House lawn.

(silence)

BRAD

Fuck me.

ALICE (trying not to cry)

I didn’t want to talk about it.

(she drinks some more gin. PIP screams. Long pause.)

BRAD

How the hell did he get there? He drove?

ALICE

He drove, he took the bike.

BRAD

Jesus.

ALICE

That’s all he’s been doin. Just . . . seems like all he does is — all he did was drive around on that stupid motorcycle all day long. Quit workin. Quit doin anything. Just drove around.

BRAD

That’s productive.

ALICE

Like he was just tryin to clear his head, like he usually does, but it never worked. So he just kept on drivin. Then one day he says “I’m goin someplace. I won’t be back for a while.” Won’t tell me where.

(pause)

Stupid bastard. I thought he’d run off and left me.

BRAD

He did.

ALICE

I mean like run off with another woman or something. Then I got a call . . . I can’t remember how I heard about it first, if I got the call first or saw it on the news. . . . No, I saw it on the news first. And somehow it was like I knew. They didn’t say who it was — I don’t think they knew, for quite a while. He was just . . . everything was just all burned up. But somehow I knew it was Arny. I remember seeing it — they didn’t show it, they just talked about it. And that almost made me more mad. They didn’t even have the decency to show it. Like it was all for nothin.

BRAD

What the hell was he hoping to achieve?

ALICE

Oh, you know.

BRAD

Not really, no.

ALICE

Just . . . to wake people up, I guess.

BRAD

This from a man who sat in a chair half catatonic most of his life.

ALICE

Just . . . to make a statement.

BRAD

Yeah: “Hey, look at me! I’m on fire!”

ALICE

Well, anyway.

(pause)

He’s in intensive care. If you wanna go see ‘im.

BRAD

Why should I?

ALICE (yelling)

Because he’s your father and he’s dying!

(PIP screams. Silence.)

You don’t have to go, I mean it’s up to you. But I’m goin in the morning, if you wanna come with.

BRAD

What a selfish stupid asshole.

ALICE

Well, you can come, or not, it’s up to you.

BRAD

I’ll think about it.

ALICE

O.K. You think about it.

(pause)

I’m so tired, Brad. I’m just so tired.

BRAD

Why don’t you go to bed, then?

ALICE

Oh, I can’t do that, you just got here, and . . .

BRAD

I don’t mind. I’m kinda tired myself.

ALICE

But it’s your first day back. We had — we were gonna have like a party and everything, and, and play Scrabble, and everything.

BRAD

Just go to bed, mom.

ALICE

You sure? You don’t mind?

BRAD

I don’t mind.

ALICE

You’re such a good boy.

(kisses him on the cheek)

Oh, hold on, I have to give you something before I go.

(she goes to a drawer and takes out something)

He left this. Stuck through a note. He said if you came back to give it to you.

(she holds out ARNOLD’s knife. He stares at it, hesitates, then takes it.)

He didn’t expect to make it, I guess. It said “he’ll understand.”

BRAD

Yeah, well I don’t.

ALICE

He’s a good man, Brad. He really is.

BRAD

I know that. Did I say he wasn’t?

(pause)

ALICE

Well. I’m gonna go to bed. I can’t keep my eyes open.

BRAD

All right.

ALICE

You stayin up for a while?

BRAD

Yeah, maybe for a little while.

ALICE

All right. Good night.

BRAD

Good night.

ACT III – Scene 2

(Middle of the night. BRAD sits alone at the table. Silence. He starts softly whistling “Yankee Doodle.” Without realizing it, he whistles more loudly, gets into it, maybe raps the beat on the table as well. After a bit, ALICE comes down in a robe, squinty-eyed)

ALICE

Hey, you still up?

(Startled, he almost falls out of his chair.)

BRAD

Oh — hi. Yeah. I, uh — sorry, did I — I woke you up, huh.

ALICE

‘Sall right. Whatcha doin?

BRAD

Nothin. Just . . . sittin here.

ALICE

What’re you doin up?

BRAD

Can’t sleep, that’s all.

ALICE

Huh. I s’pose, with the time change and everything.

BRAD

That what?

ALICE

Like, it’s s’posed to be day time — over there, I mean. So —

BRAD

Oh, yeah, that’s true. That’s probly it.

ALICE

Can I make you a snack or somethin?

BRAD

Nah, I’m not hungry.

ALICE

That warm milk stuff’s a lotta hog wash, but you could try it, if ya want.

BRAD

No, that’s fine. I’m fine.

ALICE (yawns)

O.K. Well I’m goin back ta bed.

BRAD

Good night.

ALICE

‘Night.

(she goes up. He sighs, lets his head fall back. He blinks his eyes repeatedly and deliberately, over and over again. Then he lies down on his back on the table. Folds his arms over his chest, and stares up, waiting for sleep to come.)

FADE

ACT III – Scene 3

(Lights change: morning. MARIE comes down, stops when she sees him. Giggles softly. Thinking he’s asleep, she sneaks up on him, then tickles his ribs, laughing. His arm shoots out like a whip and grabs one of her wrists)

BRAD

Whatta you think you’re doing?

MARIE

Ow, Brad, let go, you’re hurting me. Let go.

(he pushes her away)

I was just trying to —

BRAD

Well don’t.

(she runs off, just as ALICE comes down)

ALICE

What’s goin on?

(sees MARIE as she’s leaving)

Where’s she goin? Brad.

BRAD

Huh?

ALICE

Did you sleep here?

BRAD

No.

ALICE

On the table?

BRAD

No. I did not. Sleep.

ALICE

But you’ve been here all night?

BRAD

Is it morning?

ALICE

Can’t you tell the difference?

BRAD

Good morning, then.

ALICE

Good morning. Now get off the damn table.

(he does not move)

You want breakfast? Eggs or somethin?

BRAD

Not hungry.

ALICE

Well, either way, get off the table so those of us who are can set a plate on it, can ya?

(he does not move or respond. She shakes her head.)

You’ve got a bed, ya know.

(she exits to the kitchen)

BRAD (to no one)

I think I’ll go for a walk.

(he gets up, walks off SR.)

ALICE

(calling from off, as she returns)

I guess we’re outta eggs. You want pancakes?

(she stops, sees that he’s gone; accepts it. Yelling)

Marie! Breakfast soon!

(exits to kitchen again)

ACT III – Scene 4

(PIP in her chair; the front of her shirt is covered with food stains, he hair is an unwahsed mess. BRAD is on the phone. He says little, mostly listens, his face filled with suppressed rage.)

BRAD

Yeah.

(pause)

I understand that.

(pause. Yelling)

I didn’t say that.

(pause)

I’m sorry.

(pause)

I said I was sorry. Now how ‘bout you sayin you’re sorry for a change, huh?

(pause)

What the hell do you mean? You don’t think —

(pause)

You don’t think you have anything to apologize for?

(pause)

Yeah, “what you thought was best.” What about what I thought? Huh, Sarah? Did you ever think about what I thought? Or didn’t that make any difference to you?

(pause)

No. No, it’s not. It’s not “your decision.” You’re not the only one who — jesus, I can’t fuckin believe this. I cannot fucking believe that you would do this, Sarah. How can you be that — that selfish, Sarah? Without even asking me? I mean without even fucking telling me? What the fuck is the matter with you?

You didn’t. You can’t even give your poor sister a bath? What’s wrong with you?

BRAD

I don’t know, mom.

ALICE

If I can’t trust you to leave you with Pip, then I’m gonna have to get her all bundled up and somehow lug her in the car and, I don’t know, borrow a wheel chair from the hospital, I guess, I could do that, but — godammit, Brad, just . . . why can’t you just help me out a little?

(beat)

Where’s Marie?

BRAD

In her room, I think.

ALICE

You’re sure?

BRAD

Yes, she’s in her room. Christ.

(ALICE collapses in a chair, exhausted. Takes off her scarf. Sighs heavily.)

ALICE

You want some cocoa?

BRAD

No thanks.

ALICE

I’ll put some schnaps in it?

BRAD

All right.

(ALICE exits to kitchen. BRAD sits for a moment, then gets up and walks over to PIP. He studies her for a bit. Then lifts her eyelids up, looks into her eyes. Slaps her face gently. He opens her mouth, peers inside.)

(he exits to the kitchen. ALICE holds PIP in her arms again, until the screaming stops. She stays there, holding her.)

ALICE

What’re we gonna do, Pip? Huh? What the hell are we gonna do?

FADE

ACT III – Scene 5

(BRAD sitting at the table in the middle of the night, as usual. PIP is also up — sometimes softly snoring, then waking up for a bit — in her usual chair. ALICE is at the hospital. BRAD is doing crossword puzzles. He stares at the book, thinking hard, taps his pencil, rubs his eyes, his forehead. He is really just trying to make himself tired.)

BRAD (aloud, to no one)

There’s no such fucking thing. A two-letter word for “existence”?

(pause)

What a crock of shit.

(he throws the book across the room. Rubs his eyes, etc. Silence. Out of nowhere comes a voice — at first extremely quiet.)

VOICE (MARIE’S)

Be.

(he is startled, but is not sure he heard it. Pause.)

Be.

(he looks around, on edge)

Be.

(pause. He looks clesely at PIP — thinking somehow it might have been her speaking.)

Being. To be. To have being. Be. Will be. Been. Has or have been. To cease to be.

(pause)

Be.

(pause)

Be. To be or not to be.

(pause)

Be.

(pause)

That’s the answer.

(BRAD covers his ears, his elbows on the table. Long silence. It appears he may be finally asleep. Sound of a distant scream — a child’s. Pause. The scream again, then a gunshot — loud, and close. Instantly he jumps up, alert. He pounds his head with his fists. Paces. Throws darts at the dart board. Bored with it, he takes the whole bunch of darts and throws them all at once. He retrieves them, steps back a
bit, does the same thing again.)

PIP (very softly)

Be.

(BRAD stares at her, then goes back to his darts. He continues throwing the whole batch of darts at once, retreiving them, and doing this again. After a while of this, ARNOLD enters — though at first he is not recognizable. He’s covered head to toe in bandages, like a mummy, except for a hooded sweatshirt. He walks slowly, stiffly, with a slight limp. BRAD just stares at him, somewhat stunned.)

BRAD

Dad?

ARNOLD

What, didn’t recognize me?

(laughs)

BRAD

Jesus, dad — what’d ya do, escape?

ARNOLD

Somethin like that. I been through worse.

BRAD

Yeah, right. So where’s mom?

ARNOLD

Dunno.

BRAD

Well how’d ya get here, walk?

ARNOLD

Took a bus. Kinda fun. People lookin atcha. I couldn’t really see em, but I could feel em starin.

BRAD

It’s good to see ya.

(he goes up to hug his dad)

ARNOLD

A hug would be excruciating and could very well kill me, Brad — please don’t do that.

BRAD

Oh yeah, sorry. Here . . .

(tries to help ARNOLD to sit down in a chair)

ARNOLD

I can’t really sit. I don’t think that’s . . . [gonna work]

BRAD

Oh. Well what can I do?

ARNOLD

Maybe I’ll stand.

BRAD

You wanna . . . maybe lie down on the table or something? Should we try that?

ARNOLD

Yeah, O.K. Let’s try that.

(after much struggle, they manage to get ARNOLD up on the table. He lies there on his back.)

That’s not bad. This is all right.

(long silence.)

BRAD

So, you, uh . . . You just flipped, huh. You snapped or something.

ARNOLD

Let’s not talk about it.

BRAD

All right.

(pause)

ARNOLD

How’s it feel to be back?

BRAD

Cold?

ARNOLD

Yeah?

BRAD

Yeah, it’s . . . it’s fine. It’s good.

ARNOLD

Hard to adjust.

BRAD

A little, I guess.

ARNOLD

You’re a different person.

BRAD

Not really.

ARNOLD

There’s no goin back. Not really.

BRAD

Nah, it’s just me. Same old Brad. Just a little insomnia. Otherwise I’m right as rain.

I guess I can’t hear so good through all this. But I think you’re imagining things, Brad. That happens.

BRAD

Huh. Yeah. Yeah. I could have sworn . . .

ARNOLD

See what we used to do is take em up in the chopper — the VC — and interrogate em, gun to the head, that whole bit, “Tell us what you know or we’ll blow your fucking brains out the window,” that sort of thing. And they’d tell us, or not, and either way then we’d shove em out the window of the chopper into the water below, let the sharks eat em alive. Good old days.

BRAD

Yeah, well, . . .

ARNOLD

You kill any kids? Old women?

BRAD

No.

ARNOLD

That’s tough the first couple times. You gotta keep tellin yourself it was an accident. Then pretty soon you accept that the whole thing’s an accident — none of it matters. It’s all the same. Just one big accident. Nobody’ fault. Nobody’s to blame. So anything goes.

BRAD

I saved a kid’s life. How ‘bout that? You save a lotta kids’ lives?

ARNOLD

Oh sure, of course. You mean with napalm. Destroy em in order to save em. Sure. We saved whole villages. Hell, we saved most of the country. And Laos. And Cambodia. We saved the fuck outta those gook bastards!

(he laughs, chokes. PIP giggles softly; BRAD looks over at her, but can’t tell if he heard it or imagined it.)

BRAD

You’re insane.

ARNOLD

It gets to be fun, though, don’t it? You gotta admit it. Greasin em? Just linin’ em up and mowin em down? Man, I just loved greasin em. The fire bombin, too, is a fuckin thrill — from the plane, anyway. I imagine it’s not as fun from the ground, though.

(laughs. PIP laughs, too. Now BRAD knows he heard it. He stares at her, unsure and a little afraid.)

So whatta they got, now? MK-77? That shit’s better than napalm, ain’t it. Burns hotter, resists water better, sticks to skin better. Damn good shit. It’s amazing, the shit they got now, ain’t it? Those depleted-uranium rounds? Slice through a tank like a pat of butter. Don’t let the kids play on the ruins, though. Or drink the water for a couple billion years, if you can help it. And them cluster bombs, goddam, that’s some brilliant shit. Like sci-fi and shit. Bomb drops out hundrerds of little tiny bombs — “bomblets,” they call em, don’t they? Ain’t that cute. “Bomblets.” And they all explode and send shrapnel, shards of steel flying in every direction. “Anti-personnel.” Slice you into eight or ten pieces, easy. That’s good technology. That’s your tax dollars at work, boy. You don’t have so much need for that Agent Orange, I guess, in the desert — or do ya? But you got that White Phosphorous, too, that’s heavy shit. Burn the skin right down to the bone, gool ol’ Whiskey Pete.

BRAD

Dad, you need to stop this bullshit. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s —

ARNOLD

The best tool in the box, though, is just the good ol’ AK-47 automatic assault rifle. Am I right? That little beauty has killed more people than all the so-called “Weapons Of Mass Desctruction” combined — did you know that? — well, of course you know that. . Most deadly weapon of the century — hell, in the history of the world. Musta seen some sick shit out there in the desert, huh?

BRAD

Dad, just stop.

ARNOLD

Shootin people with no gear? No tanks, no helicopter gunships, no kevlar, no helmets, no armored vehicles — just a turban and some sandals and a rusty twenty-year-old kalashnikov. Like shootin fish in a barrel, right? Bet you made a few heads explode, eh, son?

BRAD

No.

ARNOLD

Well good for you. That’s the quickest way to end a war, is victory. Kill as many as you can. They surrender, and the war’s over. Victory. With honor.

(PIP bursts out laughing hysterically)

BRAD

Yeah.

(Uncomfortable — now tries not to look at PIP at all. pause)

ARNOLD

Still, even without the victory, it was fun, ya know? Fire in the hole! Hope no women and children are down that hole!

(laughs. PIP laughs with him.)

“Search And Destroy.” The free-fire zones, that’s where it gets real intense — just shoot anything that moves, right? Really get your heart racin. And it’s liberating. Because you don’t have to second-guess. You don’t have to ask questions. You’re not supposed to — you can’t ask questions. You just kill. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. What could be simpler?

(beat)

That’s life. Does the tiger say, “Ah, gee whiz, should I eat the elk alive, or not?” Hell no. He just does it. He just does it. That’s all life is.

BRAD

You’re a sick maniac.

ARNOLD

It’s gotta be a whole other ball game in the city, now. We would just burn the jungle down, just poison all the life there. But you can’t just — well, I guess you could just bomb the cities into rubble. But then you got more and more of em, comin up outta the ruins. Hajii’s sproutin up like weeds outta the ruins. Right? And the more ya kill, the more there seem to be. And they get resistant — it’s like insecticide, you kill all the weak ones, and the strongest just keep multiplyin . . . pretty soon, you gotta use a stronger insecticide . . .

You know what? You’re a senile, derranged old man. And I don’t give a shit how much pain you’re in, I’m not gonna feel sorry for you, all you’ve done is made me not give a shit. You want to put your guilt on me or whatever, but that won’t work. It’s yours, dad. You want me to “understand” why you did what you did? Why you thought it was some noble action to fucking set yourself on fire? Well save your breath, it doesn’t matter to me. You’re protesting a war that ended thirty years ago, dad, you don’t know what the fuck is going on. You need help, dad. Serious help.

(PIP laughs)

I think you snapped somehow.

ARNOLD

Oh, come on, son. You don’t have to pretend. See, I can talk about it now. That’s all. About everything — with you, cause I know you understand, you been there. It’s all right. You’re just like me. Just like your old man! Isn’t that what you always wanted? Don’t play dumb, Brad. Tell me all about it.

BRAD

I don’t really feel like it, thanks.

ARNOLD

Come on. How many gooks — hadjii’s, sorry — how many hadjii’s you kill the first month? I mean I know it’s hard to count, cause you’re so far away, and when you get up close it’s just a blood-soaked sandbox full of limbs and tissue, but take a guess.

BRAD

Does it matter?

ARNOLD

Well, sure. More ya kill, more medals ya get. Speakin of which, here, I got a medal for ya.

(he tries to lift himself off the table)

Help me up, would ya?

(BRAD helps him up off the table.)

Hold on, I got it right here in my pocket.

BRAD

Another gift, huh?

(ARNOLD takes out the gift from the pocket of his sweatshirt: it is an ear necklace. He tries to put it around BRAD’s neck)

By the way, I was just kiddin about all that stuff — you know that, right?

BRAD

Yeah, funny.

ARNOLD

I ain’t never killed anybody in all my life. And don’t you let nobody tell you no different, you got that?

BRAD

Yeah, whatever you say.

ARNOLD

Just a prank. It was all just a prank.

BRAD

Sure, dad.

ARNOLD

Good night. Ah-Salaam-Alaikum.

BRAD

What?

ARNOLD

You’re supposed to say “Wa’Alaikum’Salaam.”

BRAD

Right. Go to bed.

ARNOLD

Right. At ease. See you in hell.

(BRAD turns, is about to say something, but his father is gone. PIP laughs hysterically.)

BRAD

Shut up.

(PIP continues to laugh.)

Shut up, Pip. Just stop.

(PIP continues to laugh.)

PIP

Ah-Salaam-Alaikum

(laughs)

BRAD

Shut the fuck up.

PIP

Ah-Salaam-Alaikum.

(she laughs some more)

BRAD

Shut the fuck up!

(BRAD loses it, jumps up and grabs her by the throat, strangling her. She falls out of her chair, to the floor. He crouches over her, choking her, yelling through his teeth, repeating “Shut the fuck up” over and over again. With his hands wrapped around her throat, she continues repeating “Ah-Salaam-Alaikum” over and over again, while laughing. Finally she stops laughing, stops speaking, then breathing; lies motionless. BRAD stops, collapses on top of her. Lies there, sobbing.)

FADE

ACT III – Scene 5

(BRAD sits in a chair by the table — ARNOLD’s chair. PIP has been moved back to her chair; she is dead. BRAD sits simply staring vacantly. ALICE enters SR, in winter gear — cold, exhausted and sad.)

ALICE

Hey.

(pause)

Everything O.K.? Marie’s gonna stay at Gramma’s for a while, she decided.

(pause)

How’s Pip?

(pause. She sits down at the table.)

Well, it’s over. He’s . . .

(she tries hard not to cry)

He’s gone, Brad.

(pause)

It’s for the best, I think. He was in so much pain.

(pause)

How’s my Pip doin?

(she strokes Pip’s hair)

BRAD

Dad’s upstairs.

ALICE

What?

BRAD

He went upstairs to sleep.

ALICE

Shut up. You think that’s funny, somehow?

(of PIP)

Is she . . . [O.K.]? Pip. Pip. Pip, are you hungry? Huh? Has Brad been feeding you? I’ll get you some ice cream, how’s that.

BRAD

She’s dead, mom.

ALICE

Brad, go to bed. You’re wearin me out.

(he turns and looks at ALICE, she realizes it’s true)

What? What happened? What happened, Pip? Pip?

(she hugs Pip, cradles her head in her arms, rocks her back and forth. To BRAD, angry)

(ALICE rushes over to him, slaps him hard across the face; then goes out. He lights a cigarette, stares at the floor. Stares at PIP. Gets up, paces for a bit. Turns on the radio. Sits at the table again. Takes out ARNOLD’s knife, holds the knife in his hands, turns it over, studies it. Gently he taps the end of the blade into the table, softly, then again, just slightly harder, again . . . until it sticks into the wood. He stares at it for a long time. ALICE returns, notices the knife, watches him. She sits at the table opposite him. He pulls the knife out of the table, stabs it into the wood again. ALICE sobs, covers her face with her hands.)